


The Way We Survive

by theroughjourney



Category: The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:35:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28187766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theroughjourney/pseuds/theroughjourney
Summary: After losing nearly everyone she cares about and becoming separated from the one person she does have left, Clementine finds herself with a group of paranoid strangers living in a cabin.AKA a rewrite of TWDG, beginning at Season 2, with significant differences being carried over from Season 1 as well.
Comments: 16
Kudos: 13





	1. Suffer

21 months ago, Clementine’s father figure was killed saving her naive self from a crazed stranger, succumbing to a bite he sustained earlier in the day. At his request, Clementine’s trembling and tiny figure took his life, firing into his head. 

Carley got trapped in an alleyway when attempting to hold off the walkers, buying the others time to get to River Street. She retreated to the sewers, and they weren’t able to find her again.

Travis went crazy after Ben fell, running down into the alley to try and save him. 

Kenny and Ben…Clementine was glad Katjaa didn’t live to see what her husband had to go through. 

Her parents were dead. They were both together, even as walkers, funnily enough. She noted the enormous bite marks lining her mother, and the singular one upon her father. 

She wandered the outskirts of the city, following Lee’s advice on where her only remaining companions would be waiting for her.

20 months ago, she reunited with Christa and Omid in the fields outside of Savannah, after living off of half eaten cans of creamed corn for several weeks.

It’s been 16 months since they lost Omid. 

It’s been 16 months since the baby….

Clementine shuddered against the cold rain pouring down onto her thin purple shirt and dirtied Diamondbacks cap. The dim and dying fire was poked and prodded by Christa, letting out frustrated grunts at the lack of dry wood nearby. 

The thin and bruised woman looked up to Clementine with an unenthusiastic stare. “You should be doing this, not me.” 

Clementine shifted awkwardly against the wet rock she was sat upon, staring into the meager warm embers. Christa had taught her how to build a fire, alongside Omid, originally. She hasn’t gotten it right away, and Omid offered to teach her the next night, properly. Then…

...She figured the memories were too painful, and that Christa had suffered enough. 

“Tending a fire, so you can cook and stay warm...it’s something you have to be able to do, Clementine.” 

Her tone wasn’t accusatory; If anything, it was slightly guilt-ridden. 

The rain splattered against Clementine’s bare hands, causing her to audibly shiver. “I’m freezing.” 

Christa looked over at her with amusement. “You think /this/ is bad? Wait ‘til we get up to Wellington. Then you can talk to me about the cold.” 

Wellington, the place they’d been on the tail of for roughly a month and a half. They’d learned about it from a caravan of scavengers that claimed to travel the entire Midwest, trading with communities. After trading some meager supplies and ammunition, they continued on their way, apparently heading to a supposed settlement out East, in some old high school. 

Christa was a snowbird, apparently, because she latched onto the idea right away. Clementine was hopeful, but not exactly certain the place even existed. Christa trusted her and she trusted Christa, so the doubts weren’t exactly secretive. 

“Will we even make it that far?” Clementine had grown into a pessimistic young girl with deep trauma and anxieties. Christa wasn’t much better off herself, otherwise she’d correct her attitude. 

She used to, before. But Clementine couldn’t see how anyone could stay positive after witnessing /that/. 

_Omid had been poking and prodding his pregnant girlfriend for the past few weeks, overjoyed at the thought of “little Omid” (as he called the baby) coming into the world. Clementine and Christa would laugh, and the antics continued._

_In the middle of one of the couple’s canoodling sessions that Clementine did her best not to stare at, Christa let out a gasp, looking up with a terrified expression._

_“My water— my water just broke.”_

_Everything else was a blur. She and Omid rushed Christa up to the attic of their temporary home, as planned, sealing off all potential entrances to the house._

_Omid was telling her to push, and freaking the hell out while Clementine stood like a deer in headlights. 9 years old, she felt helpless as Christa cried out in pain as the baby was birthed in the damp and cold attic._

_8 long and agonizing hours after her labor began, the tiny and still child sat in Omid’s bloodied hands. Overjoyed, he embraced his new daughter close to his chest._

_He hadn’t checked the baby for a pulse._

Christa looked up to the sky, thoughtful. “Maybe, I dunno. We just have to keep moving. We sure as hell can’t stay here.”

The weasel skewered against their makeshift campfire was raw and inedible, despite their efforts. Clementine stared into the dimming embers, addressing Christa once more. 

“We need to find a group. People we can trust, like before.” 

Christa laughed in a bitter and resentful tone. “Trust? You can’t trust anyone out here, Clementine. Not anymore.” 

Clementine had nothing to say. 

Christa shifted the logs in the fire pit glancing off into the woods. “I’m gonna go find some more wood to burn. Just keep the fire going. Won’t be easy in the dark and in the rain…” She muttered. 

Nodding, Clementine rose to her feet as Christa left to scavenge the forest floor. The clearing was silent, save for the peaceful drizzling of raindrops in the dim moonlit sky. Clementine gathered a few damp logs and some old papers from her backpack, smiling at the stickers Ben and Travis had given her so long ago. 

God, she missed the motor inn. She missed the arguments between Lee and Larry over what was best to reinforce the walls with. She missed the little alarm systems and gadgets Doug would entertain her and Duck with. She missed Carley helping her sneak around and put bugs on people’s pillows, and teasing her over getting cooties from Lee. 

She missed the way Mark would carry her around on his shoulders, going on mock “patrol” with Duck and even Lee. She missed playing Pictionary with Katjaa, Ben, Travis and…

They’re all dead because of you. If they didn’t have to spend their time watching you, they’d still be alive.

She sighed. She had work to do. She couldn’t let herself succumb to the depression that plagued many survivors, or their sacrifices would all be for nothing.

Rearranging the logs into a neat campfire, Clementine used old drawing paper to kindle the embers at the bottom of the pit. Blowing on them after alighting them with her sticker adorned lighter, the fire rose ever so slightly, the sizzling of their dinner finally audible. 

Clementine smiled to herself, ready to—

“—CUT THE BULLSHIT, LADY.” 

Clementine froze as a man’s gruff and deep voice penetrated the peaceful night air, the sound of a blunt object smacking across bone audible. Sneaking through the brush, she peered into the trees.

“I-I’m by /myself/.” Christa reiterated, being held at gunpoint by a tall and broad shouldered man with a stubbled black beard. The other two were without guns, as far as Clementine could tell, and none of them looked anything alike. One carried a knife with rusted hinges, and the other held what appeared to be a makeshift spear. The bandits circled Christa, one of them shoving her backwards.

“Bullshit. Come on, guys, you really expect us to believe you’re out here all alone? Tell us where the rest of your group is!” The gun clicked against Christa’s forehead. 

“Tell us now, before we do something you’re gonna regret.” 

Clementine, in a moment of erratic and heroic desperation, expertly tossed a rock straight into the eye of the spearman. He turns, enraged, and Christa takes this opportunity to kick the gunman’s knee in, fleeing into the woods. 

“Christa, RUN!” Clementine shouted, sprinting through the muddied terrain, the scavenger hot on her tail. She dove behind a tree, panting heavily. A gunshot and a feminine cry of pain was heard in the distance, causing Clementine’s heart to unravel. She couldn’t lose Christa. She wouldn’t have anything left. 

“Jesus, are you fuckin’ kidding me?” The scavenger grunted, searching the clearing for the young preteen. 

Clementine ran through the woods, the man immediately pursuing her. He was ranting and raving for her to stop as she hopped over a log, right into the arms of a walker with grotesque blonde hair. She screamed, kicking in its knee and fleeing further into the woods. 

She turned upon hearing the squelching of flesh, seeing the man smash in the walker’s skull with his foot. Clementine dove into a hollow log, crawling through the narrow tube. 

“Kid, you are on my LAST fucking nerve!” The man grabbed at her ankle, yanking her out of the log. She aimed the sole of her shoe into his fingers, smashing them against her foot. He grunted in pain, releasing her temporarily. 

Diving forwards once more, Clementine latched into a nearby tree. The man yanked her off, throwing her into the dirt. He then hoisted her up, wrapping his arms around her narrow chest. 

“Leave me alone!” 

“Then stop fucking running! Quit struggling!”

Clementine brought her teeth down upon his thumb with all her might, causing the man to scream in agony and let go. “AGHH, FUCK! AGH, OW, YOU LITTLE BITCH! JESUS CHRIST!” 

She scrambled to her feet, racing towards the river to avoid any of the other scavengers. 

The man wasn’t a quitter, though. He chased her right to the river’s edge, tackling her to the ground. As they struggled against the dirt, a walker caught itself on a fallen tree right next to them. Clementine struggled to lean him over into the walker’s terrifying embrace, eventually succeeding. The man was able to yank himself free, but by that time, Clementine was already up and running. 

As she rose to her feet, the familiar feeling of cold, bloodied hands against her arm shot her into fear. Between two narrow tree trunks, a walker had hold of her sleeve. Shaking herself free, she fled into the woods, weaving and dodging the walkers in her way, thanks to her size. 

The man’s warm blood suddenly caught her wrist as he pulled her to the ground. Clementine kicked the dirt up into his eyes, temporarily blinding the man. The walker right above him was on top of him before he could scream, taking a huge and disgusting bite out of his flesh. 

Wincing, she fled to the riverbank, her exhaustion quickly taking control of her senses. The horde of the undead was narrowing in on her. She helplessly tossed a rock at the blur of their heads as her vision went dark, causing her to slide into the riverbank. 

——

The next thing Clementine could vividly remember was the sound of arguing piercing her eardrums as she lay against the dirt. 

Exhaustion really was her worst enemy.

Clementine could barely remember the events that led up to this, but the stinging pain in her arm from where Sam had nearly killed her to the pounding in her head from when she was dropped by the man wearing orange were coming back to her quickly. 

“Did anyone even think to ask where she came from? For all we know, she could be working with Carver!” Clementine didn’t recognize this voice, but the woman was clearly irritated by her presence. 

“She already told us she and her friend were attacked; Then she was bitten by a dog.” Pete…

The friendly old man who had saved her life, alongside the scruffy young country boy, Luke. He was defending her.

Luke wasn’t in sight, but she could see a boy around his age with a baseball cap and long hair. He was holding something, but she couldn’t make out what it was with her limited vision. 

“What, and you just believed her? You should’ve put her out of her misery right then and there! Dog bite, my ass.” The woman scoffed, and as Clementine’s vision returned, her bulging belly made her eyes go wide. 

She’s pregnant…

Automatically, she began to whimper, nearly to the point of tears. The words in her throat wouldn’t form, as she desperately tried to speak for herself. 

“No way she survived out here on her own. Why are we even debating this?” The boy in the cap scowled, shooting Pete a look of pure disdain. He returned the gaze, twice as powerful.

As Clementine’s consciousness became clearer, she did her best to speak up. 

“I...I need HEL-“

A rifle aimed directly next to her skull fired into the ground, temporarily deafening the poor girl. 

“Finger OFF the trigger, boy!” Pete snatched the gun away from the man in the cap, and a door behind them flew open, Luke and two other adults flying out.

“You’re lucky my nephew here can’t shoot for shit—“

“—WOAH! Woah, what the fuck?!?” Luke ran up to the group, a Hispanic man in a flannel shirt at his heels. A heftier black man was a few steps behind, hoisting up a backpack. 

“You IDIOT! Every lurker for five miles probably just heard that!” The pregnant woman turned on the boy.

“You’re the one tellin’ me to fuckin’ shoot her!” He defended his actions, but Clementine could see the fear behind his blue eyes. She knew he hadn’t meant to pull the trigger. 

“Everybody, just calm down for a second!” The heftier man pleaded, giving a sympathetic glance to the tattered little girl on the ground. 

“Clementine, you okay?” Luke made eye contact with her, his gaze thick with worry. 

Clementine caught her breath, choking out her next few sentences. “I...I’m not working for anyone...I don’t know what you’re talking about!...I just need help.” 

The group looked over her, each person conveying a different emotion. “I just need a doctor, then I’ll go. I don’t want my arm to get infected.” 

“None of us want to get infected, that’s the point.” Pete’s nephew scoffed. 

“We have a doctor right here, he’ll take a look.” Luke glared daggers into the other members of his group. “Now, what the hell is wrong with you people? Okay, she’s just scared!”

“We’re ALL scared, Luke. Don’t act like WE’RE the ones being irrational because we don’t buy this bullshit story.” The pregnant woman shot back.

The flannel clad man — the doctor — approached Clementine with a cautious stare, beckoning his hand out to her. “Let me take a look.” His voice was stern, apathetic. 

Clementine lifted her arm slowly. “Go ahead, he’s a doctor,” Luke encouraged. 

She rolled up her sleeve, letting out a hiss as the air hit her open wound. 

“Damn, that must’ve hurt.” The larger man winced. 

The doctor felt around her arm, Clementine grunting in pain as he poked and prodded her wound. “Hmm. Whatever it was, it got you good.” He slowly opened the wound, investigating the teeth markings. Clementine saw his eyebrows shoot up ever so slightly. 

Pete’s nephew stamped his feet in frustration. “This isn’t how we do things, man. When you’re bit, you get put down. End of story. I’m not going through this again.” Clementine swore she saw tears well up in his eyes. 

Luke patted the boy’s shoulder sympathetically. “No one’s suggestin’ that.”

Pete looked up thoughtfully. “We could take her arm off.” Clementine gasped in terror, clutching her arm. “I know that worked for a cousin down in Ainsworth, we could try that,” Pete offered. 

The pregnant woman waved her hand dismissively. “It won’t do any good. You’ll just be making it worse for the girl.”

“It’s crazy. Nobody’s gonna volunteer to do that.” The large man scoffed. 

Pete met his gaze with resolve. “I would, if it means saving her life.” 

Now, Clementine appreciated Pete’s help and word, she really did, but she really didn’t want to get her fucking arm chopped off over a goddamn dog bite. She never should’ve fed that goddamn dog. Now she might have rabies, or her arm could get infected, or these people could shoot her, thinking she was bit by a walker! 

Pete’s nephew rolled his eyes. “Then what? How would we know if it worked?”

“Just let Carlos take a look at it first!” Luke grunted in frustration. 

Clementine looked to the doctor — Carlos — in desperation. She didn’t like to play the helpless victim card, but if it was do or die…

She gave her the most pitiful frown she could muster. “I promise you it was just a dog bite. That’s all it was.” 

The doctor’s gaze softened for a moment. “We’ll see soon enough, young lady.” His voice wavered for his first few words. 

The cabin door behind the arguing group creaked open, and a young girl poked her head out. She bore a striking resemblance to the doctor, with pretty black hair and red glasses. She couldn’t have been much older than Clementine.

“Who’s she?” She asked curiously. 

Carlos sighed. “What’d I say, Sarah? Stay inside.” 

The girl — Sarah — sighed dejectedly, closing the door. 

“I don’t mean to cause you any trouble. I just wanted to find help. But if you let me go, I promise you’ll never see me again.” At this point, Clementine would be satisfied with simply surviving the encounter with these people. 

“And where exactly would you go?” Carlos began to crack, as he couldn’t help but envision Sarah begging for help before him, at the risk of death or worse. 

Clementine’s tears could barely be held back as she recalled the events of last night. “To find my friend Christa.” 

“Forget it. You won’t get five feet.” The nephew was really starting to piss Clem off, to be honest. 

She glared at him. “I can take care of myself.”

The pregnant woman snorted. “Clearly.” 

Ignoring her sarcasm, Clementine faced Carlos. “It really, really hurts. And it’s only gonna get worse.”

The doctor nodded. “A dog, you say?” 

“Do you think it had rabies?” Clementine dared to ask.

“Out here? Who knows. Right now, that’s the least of your concerns.” The doctor appeared thoughtful for a few moments. “A dog. Hmmm...could be.” He looked to Clementine sorrowfully. “I understand you’re scared, and I feel terrible delaying treatment, but we need to discuss this as a group, to be sure.” Finally, he stood, turning to face his people.

The hefty man stood behind the pregnant woman, clutching her shoulder. “So, what d’you think?” 

“Was it a lurker?” The nephew added.

Carlos took a deep breath, folding his arms. “A bite like that...could be anything. But I don’t think it was a lurker. The canines are too wide, and there’s no way one could puncture that deeply without immediately causing any sort of swelling or infection.” 

“I might be in the minority here, but my gut tells me she’s tellin’ the truth. I really think it was just a dog,” Luke added, stepping up beside Carlos. 

“This is ridiculous! We’re going to waste supplies on this girl that’s clearly not gonna make it because you so-called men don’t have the balls to do what’s gotta be done?!” The pregnant woman threw her arms up. “Un-fuckin’-believable.”

Clementine’s face brightened. “Does that mean you’re going to treat my arm? It needs to be cleaned, and stitched, and bandaged…” 

Luke nodded. “The girl is in bad shape, Carlos.” 

The man behind Rebecca smiled. “We have all that stuff inside the cabin. We could probably get by with…”

The woman sighed, exasperated. “Alvin, PLEASE.” 

Her husband — Clementine assumed — Alvin, scratched at the back of his neck awkwardly. “...But yeah, we can’t do nothin’.” 

“I wouldn’t go wasting supplies on a lurker bite, but the differences in anatomy and overall structure of the wound make it difficult for me to take you for a liar.” Carlos sighed, hoping he wouldn’t regret this decision. 

Luke smiled. “Yes! Thank you, Carlos.” 

“This is fuckin’ stupid. You all just wait and see, the girl will turn. And when she does, you better hope it ain’t you she bites next.” The woman turned, storming off into the cabin. Alvin helped usher his wife inside, cradling her belly. 

Carlos turned to Clementine. “When you’re ready, come find me inside. Don’t make me regret this.” He walked back into the cabin, his mind in inner turmoil. 

Pete held out the rifle to his nephew. “Finger off the trigger, son—“

“—I ain’t your son.” He snarled.

Luke came up behind him, brows furrowed. “Nick, don’t be like that, man.” 

“It’s alright,” Pete stared Nick straight in the eyes. “Boy’s got his mom’s temper.” 

Nick stomped off behind the cabin, cussing and muttering under his breath. Luke paced after him, leaving Pete alone with Clementine. 

“Kid, you’re a hell of a negotiator. Carlos is as stubborn as mule, and you got him to crack.” He laughed, patting her on the back. “You’re a real special kind of person, Clem.” 

Clementine frowned, thinking back on the woman and Nick. “Your nephew, and the— the pregnant one,” Her voice wavered in anxiety. “They didn’t believe me.”

Pete sighed, pulling the girl into a gentle hug. “Rebecca...she’s been through a lot. I guarantee you, she’ll come around soon enough.” He chuckled. “As for Nick, that boy’s gonna come snottin’ and cryin’ to you by sundown, beggin’ for forgiveness.” Pete’s face fell. “He...he lost his mom, my sister, to a bite victim, recently.” 

Clementine’s eyes widened, and an all too familiar sinking feeling in her gut returned. “Oh...I...I know what that’s like. It’s happened to people I care about, too.” 

Pete grimaced. “Ain’t we all. Still, I’m sorry to hear that.” 

Katjaa. Duck. Ben. Omid. Lee…

Clementine was ushered inside by Pete, noticing the tears adorning her face. 

“Come on, Clem. Let’s get you fixed up.” 

______

The stitching felt odd against her tightly wound arm, but so much better than when the cold air had pierced her skin. Carlos was an excellent doctor, fixing her up in no time at all. 

Sat in the living room with Luke for the past hour or so, he did his best to keep the young girl occupied, and go take her mind off of her friend. 

“So, uh, Clem. You feelin’ hungry? I know you’ve had a pretty damn long day, and uh, we got some soup.” Luke rose to his feet, anticipating her response. Clem simply nodded as he left the room. 

As Luke left the kitchen to presumably go grab food from...somewhere, Carlos entered, dropping a dirtied dish into the sink. He eyed Clem from his peripherals, still cautious of the young girl. 

Clementine took a breath to thank him once more, but he suddenly turned to face him with an ice cold expression. As if she were a deer in headlights, she froze, waiting for the man to speak.

“I knew it wasn’t a lurker as soon as I saw the bite, Clementine. But I am cautious to let you into our lives, as one thing is certain. You are not to be trusted.” Carlos sighed. “You took advantage of our emotions by playing a helpless victim act, and against my better judgement, I treated your arm.” 

Clementine took deep offense, glaring into his dark eyes. “I was hurt, and you weren’t going to help.” 

“That’s because we considered you a threat to our own loved ones. Maybe, you still are.” The doctor sighed, cupping his hands to his face. “I have to ask you to stay away from my daughter, Sarah.” 

Clementine raises her eyebrows in a confused manner. “I haven’t even spoken to her to yet—“ 

“—Exactly, you haven’t.” Carlos interrupted, turning to face the sink again. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt, but there’s a few things you need to know about my daughter.” 

“Okay…?” Clementine agreed cautiously. 

“She isn't like you. You may not get that initially, but once you're around her for a while, you'll understand.” Carlos’s expression morphed into one of sadness. “If she knew how bad the world is...what it's really like out there...she would...cease to function.” Carlos turned to face Clem once more, a stern gaze piercing her eyes. “She's my little girl. She's all I have left and I would ask that you stay away from her.”

Clementine felt a pang of guilt for coming into these people’s lives so suddenly. But she knew what happened if kids couldn’t grow up in time, she’d seen it with Duck, and nearly with herself. “I’m sorry, but...she needs to grow up sometime.” 

Carlos practically snarled. “You do NOT know what she needs!” His voice rose slightly, his frustration written all over his face. Rebecca was worried you might be working with someone else. That your being here was no accident.” He began to walk towards the door, turning to face her one final time. “I guess we’ll find out, but I reiterate— you are not to be trusted.”

Clementine’s heart sank at his words. She really wasn’t trying to be a burden, she only even tried to get their help because she knew an infection could kill her. As she stared blankly down at the table, Luke entered, placing a bowl of warm soup in front of her. 

“Heya, kid. We’ve got a little stove setup out by the back porch, so I put a can of chicken noodle on for you.” He beckoned the soup with his arms wide. “Bon Appetit, Madame.” 

Clementine blinked, not really getting the joke. “Thanks...Luke,” she stated awkwardly. 

He chuckled, seating himself down across from Clem. He eyed the wicked bite from across the table, adorning her rolled-up sleeve. “That’s gonna leave one hell of a scar.” He winced. 

Clem flexed her own arm, hissing slightly as she felt the nerves activate. “It’s ugly, but it’s better than losing it.” She shrugged, taking another heavenly spoonful of soup. “Goddamn, this is good.” She muttered. 

“Woah, Clem, you’re a bit of a potty mouth!” Luke teased her, giving a smirk as she rolled her eyes. “Don’t let Carlos hear you saying nothin’ ‘round Sarah, or he’ll raise hell.” He noticed Clementine wince, so he quickly changed the subject. “Anyways, scars are waaay cooler than stumps.” 

A quick memory of Lee arriving in the apartment missing an arm caused Clementine to frown on reflex. Sadness engulfed her for a few moments, until Luke snapped his finger a ways from her face.

“Clem, you okay? What’s wrong?” He was genuinely concerned.

“It’s just...one of my friends lost his arm, once.” She shrugged, trying not to seem weak. 

“Hey, uh, I understand if you’re wary around us, still. We weren’t exactly the most welcoming people ever, and I’m sorry.” As Luke finished speaking, the door opened again. 

A very timid looking Nick entered the room, hands in his pockets. “Uh...hey.” He spoke softly, regret evident in his voice. “Look, I just wanted to say sorry about how I acted out there. I got kind of aggro and that was definitely not cool.” 

“Nick’s been known to go off every once in a while. Don’t hold it against him,” Luke quickly added. 

“Yeah, I guess we all have our moments.” He grumbled. 

“You definitely had one out there.” Luke replied sternly. 

“You were just protecting your friends. I get it.” Clementine accepted his apology quickly, smiling as she remembered Pete’s words from earlier

“Pete told me he informed you of what happened with uh, Nick’s mom.” Luke stuttered, keeping an eye on his friend. “We took care of someone who got bit, and then she turned, and Nick’s mom was standing right there…” He trailed off. 

“It was my fault,” Nick spoke guiltily. “I—“

“—It was nobody’s fault, man.” Luke stood up, embracing the man tightly. “There was nothing anyone could do.” 

Their hug lingered for a moment, before Nick let go, his face red with embarrassment. “Anyways, uh. Hopefully you understand.” 

Clementine smiled to him genuinely. “Yeah. I do.”

He returned her smile, leaving the room with more pep in his step than when he entered.

Luke patted her shoulder approvingly. “Hey, thank you for that. Nick’s not a bad guy by any means, and I know it means a lot to him that you accepted his apology.” 

“Most people don’t ever bother to admit their mistakes. It takes strength to do that,” Clementine shrugged.

“Yeah, I—I suppose it does, Clementine.” Luke appeared thoughtful. 

Luke and Clementine chatted for the next half hour, with Clem regaling him over thrilling tales of Omid’s sense of humor, Lee’s quarrels with Larry and Lilly at the motor inn, and Ben’s love of candy that never failed to make her laugh. Eventually, Pete came in, smirking at the two.

“Hey, I don’t mean to interrupt, but I’m out there on watch and can’t help but notice that this place is lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree.” Pete blew out the candle on their table for emphasis. 

Luke gave Clem a chuckle, nodding to Pete. “Yeah, alright, alright.” Facing Clem as he stood, Luke spoke. “Hey, Clem, when you’re ready, come find me in the morning. You’re welcome to stay here, as I told you, but that means you gotta help with the duties.”

“Of course.” Clem nodded, smiling to him. 

Pete and Luke exited the room, and in came Rebecca, sighing under her breath.

“Oh, god, please, please be his…” she sighed, wiping tears from her eyes. As she walked to the sink, she made eye contact with Clementine and scowled. “Oh, you’re still here. Why? You got what you came here for, now go.” 

Clementine had very little patience left for this woman, honestly. She showed Nick kindness despite his treatment of her earlier because it was understandable, and he seemed truly remorseful. Rebecca, on the other hand…

“Whose baby is it?” She asked innocently, noticing Rebecca’s eyebrows shoot up imemdiately. 

“Excuse me?” She stated, clearly agitated.

“If it’s not Alvin’s, whose is it?” Clementine feigned innocence, keeping a straight face.

Rebecca quickly turned her head, looking around frantically. When she saw they were alone, she leaned into Clementine’s face with fury. “You shut your fucking mouth.” 

Clementine shrugged. “You should probably think about being nicer to me.” Rebecca just glared at her. “That’s just my advice.” Clementine returned to her food, finishing off the remnants of her bowl. 

“...I knew you were gonna be a fuckin’ problem.” Rebecca muttered, cussing under her breath as she left. 

Pushing her guilty feelings aside, Clementine dumped her dirty dishes into the sink, walking out into the living room. There, she found Alvin, Luke, Nick, and Pete, engaged in discussion. As she walked over, Luke waved and greeted her. 

“Clem, good, you’re here. To get straight to it, if you’re gonna be staying here, we need your help, if you can handle it.” 

Clementine nodded. “I’m not deadweight; I can hold my own.” 

“Good, ‘cause I need you to decide what you’re doin’ tomorrow. Either you can come with me and Alvin to check the rabbit traps over in the woods here…” He motioned on the map. 

“...Or you can come with my nephew and myself to check the fish traps down here.” Pete finished, pointing to the opposite side of the map.” 

“Choice is yours, since our teams are already even.” Alvin chipped in, giving her a friendly grin. 

“Just choose whatever you’d be better at.” Nick added. 

Thinking over her options to herself, Clementine tried to consider what potential consequences each action might take. 

Which should she choose?


	2. Tearing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete, Nick, and Clementine go to the riverbank. What they find isn’t fish.

That night, Clementine should’ve been able to sleep. She had a nice soft mattress laid out for her in Pete and Nick’s room, to the former’s insistence and the latter’s reluctance. But she couldn’t stop all the toxic thoughts from seeping into her mind, ensnaring her in their grasp. She couldn’t stop replaying yesterday’s events in her head, over and over over…

As her body finally allowed her to drift into the peace of sleep, her throat suddenly felt as if it were on fire.

She felt like she was underwater, gasping for breath. She saw the faces of people she met, she loved; And they flashed before her eyes, and then they were brutally torn away, revealing the rotted husks they’d become. 

The torn throat of Shawn Greene bled as he gave her a twisted smile, before sinking back into the abyss of walkers. 

Larry’s headless corpse was puppeteered by a sinister amalgamation of Lilly and Kenny, their divisions evident in the beast’s unholy rotted jaw. 

Mark’s legless form limped towards her from the left, reaching out, pleading for help. 

Doug was facing away from her, an enormous hole in the back of his head. 

Duck and Katjaa’s zombified forms suddenly grasped him, Doug shrieking in terror as he was devoured by Kenny’s wife and son. 

Ben’s gashed out stomach appeared in front of her, the tall teen smiling down to her warmly. As she reached out to grab his hand, he suddenly bolted in the other direction. 

The walkers were all around her now. They were getting closer by the second, their rotting forms smelling even more hideous than they appeared to look. 

As she peered behind the approaching herd, desperate for help, she spotted silhouettes, blackened shadows dancing against the street. 

The deep purple vest of Carley was unmistakable as it came into view, alongside the blue varsity jacket of Travis. The two watched Clementine solemnly, before turning and running the other way.

From behind her, Clementine heard a gunshot and a cry. She was able to see the man from the woods, with his scarred face and torn ear, as he fired into Christa’s abdomen. Christa coughed and sputtered, reaching out to her for help. 

As she raced forwards to help Christa, the weak form of Lee became visible against the alleyway. Panicking, Clementine desperately looked between the two, deciding who to help first. Unfortunately, she didn’t have any time to react as two pale walkers came and ripped apart Christa and Lee, their screams echoing into the moonlight. 

The cold dead eyes of her mother and father encroached upon her, their whitened by irises widening with hunger. As Clementine fled, she noticed a walker cradling a little baby girl...Omid.

His cheek was still bloodied from where his little monster had gouged its fingers into his flesh, coughing tainted blood directly into his bloodstream. He appeared solemn, slowly raising the baby up in his arms. 

Omid then hurled the zombie infant directly into Clementine’s eyes, causing her to awake in her bed with a scream, heavy sweat pouring down her purple shirt and dirtied jeans. 

Clementine lies there in a blanket of terror for what felt like years, the static in her brain getting louder with each remembered name. Just before the pain was too much to bear, she was shaken awake by a firm, calloused hand. 

“...Kid, are you alright?” A faint voice silences the static engulfing her psyche. As her eyes flutter open, she’s met with the blue and wide eyes of a stubbled man with a red and white baseball cap. Nick. Clementine is at first startled by his proximity to her face; A reflex from living in the apocalypse, but quickly calms down once she’s aware of her surroundings. 

“Y-yeah, I’m okay.” She manages to sputter out, but it sounds about as convincing as a walker pleading that it just wants to give you a hug. Nick doesn’t look the brightest person she’s ever met, no offense intended, but even he seems unconvinced by her reassurance. 

He raised an eyebrow, sticking out his bottom lip slightly. “...Right. Well, look, we’re eating breakfast in 20 or so, and I suggest you wash up. Pete’s already down helping set the table, if you were wondering.” He pauses, then snaps his fingers. “Oh yeah, we’re having squirrel for breakfast. I dunno if you’ve ever eaten squirrel, but it takes oddly like chicken.” He appears thoughtful about his own statement. 

Clementine blinks, rubbing her eyes to adjust to the sunlight peeking in through the curtain. “Yeah, well, I don’t really remember what chicken tastes like. It’s been like, three years.” Nick nods solemnly. 

“Dunno where you’re from, but Luke and I grew up raising chickens. We uh, we didn’t eat em’, not usually. We ate and sold the eggs, but occasionally if a chicken had to be put down we’d fry it up with our families. It was like Thanksgiving…” Clementine allowed him to ramble mostly out of the lack of will to make him stop, but also simply because she was genuinely enjoying his company. Nick had been kind of a dick yesterday, sure, but can she really blame him? Was his response that unreasonable? If the roles were reversed, and it was her looking to an adult male asking for help, she’d be much more reluctant. 

Oh, shit, she stopped listening about five whole minutes ago.

“....And then I catch em’ up on the rooftop, leaning into one another like goddamn cornstalks, and just like, c’mon Luke, we had one job…” Nick continued rambling about everything and nothing. “Oh, shit, I—I really shouldn’t have said that to a kid, fuck.” Nick sheepishly scratched at his neck, eyeing Clementine guiltily. She really had no idea what he’d even said, but she took offense to being called a kid.

“I’ve literally had to kill people and monsters since I was eight years old, and you’re worried about...that?” She left the last bit intentionally vague, but Nick either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He instead blinked at her words, processing them.

“Wait, you’ve killed actual...people...before?” His eyes went wide. Clementine felt her heart crash back down into Earth, spiraling back into the Marsh House back in Savannah. 

The Stranger was going to kill Lee. She had to. She had to...and Lee was going to turn...she had to…

“I had to.” She exhaled shakily, her body undergoing a deep tremor of dread. “I had to.” 

Nick glances down at her sympathetically, before tipping his hat back awkwardly. “I—“

Before Nick can finish whatever he was about to say, Pete bursts into the room, giving his nephew a hearty smack on the back. “Get movin’, lazy white boy.” He snickered, and then turned to Clementine with a grin. “You ready to go out and learn how to fish today?” 

Last night, when Luke had asked her who she wanted to spend her day with tomorrow, she really wasn’t sure want to think. She immediately felt a click with Luke, he reminded her of a caring older brother. For that reason alone, she was tempted to go with him and Alvin. But then she recalled the angry little pregnant woman who she’d basically threatened to expose unless she treated her better. Clementine figured if she saw her and Alvin together, it wouldn’t end up pretty. 

If Luke acted like an older brother, Pete definitely acted like a father. Despite being Nick’s uncle, as far as she knew, he seemed to hold complete parental control over the man. Nick himself was a more timid individual, but from what she’d observed, he really wasn’t so bad. At least he apologized for nearly shooting her, even if it wasn’t on purpose. 

Besides, Clementine always liked fish more than squirrels. Maybe it’s because of her old pet goldfish, Peanut. Maybe it’s because squirrels are just “rat fuckers with bushy tails”, as Kenny used to affectionately refer to them. Hell if she knows. She also was aware of the fact that Christa became separated from her closer to the river, so she stood a better chance of reuniting with her if she tried to find familiar surroundings. 

Clem really wasn’t sure of her end goal with these people. On one hand, Luke, Pete, Alvin, and maybe Nick seemed to be warming up to her, but on the other hand, Carlos and Rebecca certainly were not. She hasn’t even spoken to Sarah yet. Maybe she’d get a chance to, at breakfast? 

“Clementine, the bathroom is up the hall to the left, opposite Sarah’s room. Can’t miss it; Her room’s got a nice little purple sign hangin’ on the door.” Pete smiled at her, and she returned the gesture. Purple was Clem’s favorite color, so Sarah definitely had good taste. Pete continued to berate Nick about making his bed as she headed out the door.

“Pete, I’m going, I’m GOING.” 

“Not fast enough, boy!” 

Walking down the hall, she could hear the clattering of plates and silverware as the table was set, alongside the muffled voices of who she could only assume to be Rebecca and Alvin. 

“Come on, we gotta apologize for the way you treated her.” This was undoubtedly Alvin, and he sounded exasperated.

“Fuck that girl, Alvin. She’s obviously a spy for Carver.” *Golly gee,* Clementine wondered, *Who ever could that be?*

“Bec, she’s like, twelve.”

“Old enough to slit your throat in your sleep, ain’t she?” 

Rolling her eyes, Clementine flung open the bathroom door. To her surprise, the sink actually worked! She gave her hands a thorough scrub down with the hand soap placed next to the countertop. Abiding by the “two squirts only” message on the bottle, she wiped the dirt from under her fingernails, smiling to herself as she became publicly presentable. 

“Hey….” 

Clementine let out a startled squeak, reeling around to face the unfamiliar voice. She was met with the timid gaze of a girl with red glasses and a meek smile. She couldn’t have been much older than Clementine herself, and her resemblance to Carlos was unmistakable. Sarah was awkwardly standing in the bathroom doorway, pushing her hands into her pockets. 

“Oh, uh, hi.” Clementine offered, shaking her hands dry. Sarah chuckled, lifting one of her hands up to give Clementine a wave. She returned Sarah’s gesture, smiling. “I’m Clementine, uh, you must be Sarah.” 

Sarah nodded, her smile widening. “Yeah, oh my gosh, it’s so cool to meet a girl my age! I haven’t met anyone my age since…” The girl trailed off, frowning. “Well, nobody nice, anyways, for a long time. Do you wanna be friends? I haven’t met any girl in forever, and Rebecca’s nice and all, but she’s so old. And by the time her baby is old enough to be friends with, I’ll be ancient…” Sarah rambled on and on and on, and if Clementine had zoned out when Nick was blabbering about catching Luke kissing someone or whatever, then she was completely out of it during Sarah’s ramblings. 

“...Sure, we can be friends.” Clementine shrugged, interjecting at a shallow point in Sarah’s ramblings. She could tell the girl was naive and held a lot more innocence than herself, and she assumed it to be the work of Carlos, if last night’s threat was anything to go by. But Sarah was friendly, polite, and genuinely enthusiastic about what she cared for, and Clementine hadn’t met anyone so positive since Omid had died. 

“Really? You gotta pinky swear on this, so I know you’re serious. Friends look out for one another, so I’ve gotta know you’re serious about this.” Sarah’s tone of voice was dead serious, and Clementine couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“A pinky swear? Really?” She held in as much laughter as she could, a very unimpressed Sarah glaring back at her. 

“A pinky swear is forever. Yeah, it’s kinda silly, I guess,” Sarah admits. “But I need to know you’re willing to swear on our friendship, or it won’t be real.” This teenager was so determined to give Clementine a pinky swear that it was honestly hilarious. 

Feeling light and carefree, Clementine locks their pinkies together. “Sure, I swear we’ll be friends.”

Sarah beams back to her. “Same here. Friends.” 

—-

Arriving downstairs a few minutes later, Nick and Pete are already sat at the table, with Pete actively teasing his nephew over something passionate, it seems. Clementine and Sarah take seats next to one another, with Clem seated on the left of Pete, facing Nick across the table. Nick’s face is as red as a tomato, and he looks irritated.

“Man, shut up! You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Nick hmmphs to his uncle, who is cackling and slapping his knee. 

“Oh, I know plenty about crushin’ hard, but you really put the hard in—“ 

Sarah tapped Pete’s shoulder, blinking up to him curiously. “What’re you guys talking about?” 

“We’re talking about how I’m going to kick Pete straight in the balls if he doesn’t shut his goddamn mouth.” Nick’s ears were bright red, his face sweating profusely. Pete just kept cackling at his nephew’s misfortune. 

Clementine wasn’t sure exactly what was so funny, but she did know what a crush was. Duck used to tease her about having a crush on Travis, which she totally did not have. Totally not, at all. Nope. 

A crush is what she did NOT have on Travis.

Whatever. Even if she DID, she was waaaay over it. Boys were too complicated, and survival came first and foremost. 

Anyways, she knew what a crush was, and this piqued her interest, so she decided to ask. “Do you have a crush on someone, Nick?” She asked nonchalantly. 

“Oh, is that what this is about?” Sarah squeaked in excitement, her smile broadening. “Back in school, there was this boy in my math class, and he was super sweet!” 

The door from the living room swung open, and the rest of the bodies emerged. Alvin and Rebecca took up the rear, sitting next to one another at the far end of the table. Alvin sent Clem a wave, and Rebecca sent her a scowl. She graciously returned both gestures. Carlos gave his daughter a little hug as he sat next to her, and Pete rose to help Luke pass around each person’s portions.

“What’re ya’ll talking about, anyways?” Luke chuckled. “Oh God, don’t tell me you’ve got em goin’ about schoolgirl crushes and whatnot. I don’t think I can take girl talk, not after last time with the pads and the—ew.” Luke sat across from Clementine, next to Nick. He gave him a shoulder tap in greeting, before digging into his food. 

“Oh yeah? Complain when you start bleeding from your crotch every month, mister Tough Guy.” Rebecca said icily, but with no real malice. 

Luke gulped, intimidated by the woman nonetheless. “Alright, alright, point taken. Point taken.” He raised his arms up in mock surrender, before turning back to face the others. “But uh, what’s this about crushes, now?”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, Lu—“

“—-Actually,” Pete interrupted Nick, giving him the widest shit-eating grin Clem had ever seen. “Clementine here had just asked my dear old nephew about his own crush.” Pete snorted into his hands, watching as Nick sputtered to defend himself. 

“Oho! Nick, man! Who is it, some girl back in Howe’s?” Luke nudged the man in the ribs, snickering. “Was it Bonnie? No hard feelings if it is, man. Oh, shit, wait. You an’ Shel got along well, too…” Luke furrowed his brow in thought. 

“Howe’s? Bonnie? Shel? Who are they?” Clementine blinked in confusion. 

Carlos was surprisingly the one to answer, giving an awkward cough. “We all used to live in a community that resides in an old Howe’s Hardware. Now we don’t, and we really shouldn’t talk about it.” He sent a deep glare to Luke. 

“Oh, lighten up, ‘Los, ain’t no harm in talking about old friends.” He slapped Nick in the gut teasingly, waggling his eyebrows. “Or...more than friends?” Clementine held back a snicker.

Nick looked as if he was about to explode, but spoke with great restraint in his voice. “...I don’t have a crush on anyone.” He sounded about as convincing as Clementine did when she first woke up, earlier. 

“Ooooookaaaay.” Luke whistled, giggling like a teenager. 

“Oh, my God.” Rebecca mumbled.

“Man, Luke, does the kid’s presence bring out all your childlike tendencies?” Alvin teased, his wife glowering next to him. 

“...As if he needs a kid around to be an asshat, he’s always like that.” Nick took the opportunity to change the subject, breathing out a sigh of relief, or so Clementine figured. 

“Hey, you’re one to talk! I caught you playin’ with those dolls we found in the attic last week!” Luke shot back.

“They are ACTION FIGURES, Luke, and I was not PLAYING, I was collecting!” Nick defended his...questionable hobby, garnering a snicker from everyone around the table, even Rebecca. 

“Rebecca, how’re you holdin’ up?” Pete glanced over to the pregnant woman, who just stared blankly into her plate. “I know it must be painful, and you’re due any week now…” 

Clementine felt her stomach do somersault. Her hands shot up to cover her mouth, and she nearly threw up. 

Sarah evidently noticed her sudden change in behavior, as she gently nudged her shoulder. “Clementine? Are you okay?” 

*There was so much blood everywhere. Omid was screaming, walkers were growling, and Christa’s cries of pain were the most haunting thing she’d heard other than gunshots killing her friends. At nine years old, she was doing her best to offer Christa reassurances, but she was terrified. Everything around her was spinning so fast, and then the baby came out headfirst, and there was this cord around its neck, and Omid…*

Clementine took in shaky breaths, exhaling with sounds of badly held in tears. Her eyes began to water as she relived the baby’s birth in her head, and the way it turned so fast, right in Omid’s arms…

And now this woman, Rebecca, was about to have another baby. 

She couldn’t go through that again.

She wouldn’t go through that again. 

She wanted Christa.

She wanted Lee.

She wanted her mom and dad. 

But most of all, she just wanted it to STOP. 

She wanted people to stop dying for her sake.

She wanted the world to stop taking everything she loved.

She wanted everything to just...stop. 

The blood was roaring in her ears, the static in her ears drowning out the concerned voices of her companions. All she could do was descend into a downwards spiral, unable to form any coherent thoughts. 

Her breathing grew more shallow by the second, the entire table now looking her way in worry. Carlos quickly stood, taking Clementine’s arm gently. 

“Clementine. You’re having a panic attack. I know you’re scared, but I can help you through this, okay?” She whimpered, simply nodding to the doctor.

“I need you to count to sixty with me. Can you do that?”  
Nodding, Carlos and Clementine spoke aloud, the rest of the table eerily silent. By the time they finished counting, Clementine already felt much calmer. 

“Now, I Need you to tell me three things you can see, three things you can smell, and three things you can hear.” Carlos spoke in a soft and understanding tone, much different from the hostile and cold one he adopted the previous day. 

“I...I see you.” Clementine stuttered, her breathing desperately trying to regain tempo. “I see...I see Nick’s hat. I see...I see Alvin’s backpack, on the floor.” She already was able to speak much clearer.

“Excellent, Clementine. Now, please, what are three things you smell?” Carlos gave her hand a gentle squeeze of reassurance. 

“I smell the squirrel bits on our plates, uh, I smell the pine trees from outside the sliding screen door, and I smell…” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Gross B.O.” God, boys were disgusting. At least Christa bathed as often as she could, but these “men?” 

Carlos suppressed a chuckle, much to Clementine’s surprise. “I suppose body odor is rather...rancid. You’re doing excellent, Clem.” She smiled fondly at Carlos at the use of her nickname, and he returned it. “I just need you to tell me three things you can hear.” He pushed over his untouched glass of water to the young girl, which she graciously accepted. 

“I can hear the birds singing, from outside.” Clementine smiled fondly; Bird calls were always one of her favorite sounds. “And I hear myself and you, speaking, of course.” She exhaled and inhaled again, in near perfect control of her own body once more. “I can hear someone’s foot tapping from under the table, I think.” 

“Oh, uh, my bad, sorry.” Alvin stammered, putting his arm down over his bouncing leg. Feeling much more at peace, Clementine turned over to face Carlos. 

“Carlos...thank you—“ She began, but was quickly cut off. 

“Don’t mention it. It’s part of my job, I suppose.” Although the comment was dismissive, it lacked the earlier tone of malice it had held yesterday. Sarah squeezed her dad around the waist, bringing him into a crushing hug.

“Thank you for helping out my friend, Dad!” Clem swore she saw a slight face of annoyance at the word ‘friend.’ 

“I don’t mean to interrupt your moment or anything, but what the hell was that?” Rebecca snapped, folding her arms.

Carlos looked over at her in irritation. “It was an anxiety attack — sometimes the children would have episodes when they came into my office, so I was trained in how to deal with their problems. Not to mention, Sarah—-nevermind.” He sighed, taking a seat back beside his daughter again.

“Anx...iety attack?” Clem sounded the word out in confusion. “I’ve never heard of that before...and it’s never happened like that before, either.” Clementine shuddered. 

“Well, attacks can be triggered by the remembrance of a traumatic event, a surplus of stress, or many other causations.” Carlos explained, fixing his flanneled shirt collar. “If you don’t mind my asking, what exactly...triggered your reaction?” 

Clementine looked around at the table’s occupants in rapid succession, unwilling to face Rebecca. She considered the consequences of telling the truth...she’d definitely piss Rebecca off, and the others...who knows how they’d react. 

**[Lie to the others]**

[Tell the truth]

“I...I don’t know.” She lied, staring down at her squirrel. Carlos nodded sympathetically, patting her shoulder. 

“Well, fantastic. I told you the girl would be a liability. What happens if she freezes up like that in the middle of—“

“Bec, please.” Alvin sighed, setting his fork down in exhaustion. 

“Are you seriously taking her side?! Alvin, you are the father of this baby, and you better start damn acting like it.” Rebecca was fuming. 

“Ya’ll, can we just eat the damn squirrel?” Luke snapped, glaring at the couple. Nick muttered in his agreement, nibbling at the meat. 

Rebecca and Alvin both scowled at Luke, but obliged his request. The group ate silently for a few moments, each person digging into their squirrel at a different pace. Eventually, Alvin broke the silence. 

“You know, this meat tastes kinda like chicken.” 

—-

Clementine walked down the path at Pete’s side, taking in the beauty of nature as they wandered towards the stream. Pete began to whistle a tune that reminded Clementine of some nautical sort of cartoon she’d once watched, and Nick lingered on the path behind them, muttering something about taking a piss. 

Pete turned to Clementine, giving her a look of concern. “How ya holding up? I heard you got into it with Rebecca last night. And well, we all saw her at Breakfast, tearing into you. Once she gets going, there’s no bringing her back. Her bark’s worse than her bite, though.” 

Clementine pondered over his words for a moment. She herself had been pretty rude and hostile to Rebecca right back, even if she’d instigated it. Lee had often talked about ‘being the bigger person’ in situations like that. Clementine hadn’t done so, and she still felt a sharp pang of guilt over it. And Rebecca being pregnant definitely brought up haunting memories, but was that really her fault?...

“She was in a mood last night, that’s for sure.” Pete took her silence as its own answer, shrugging his shoulders. 

“How far are these fish traps?” Clementine changed the topic of conversation. 

“It ain’t much further.” Clementine looks over Pete’s rifle as he speaks, unnerved by its sheer size. Pete noticed, and smirks down to her. “Anyone ever teach you how to shoot? By that I mean taught proper. Any idiot with a finger can shoot.” Nick came to her mind with that last sentence. 

Clementine considered Lee’s teachings to be pretty proper, the bottles lined up on crates as the train sped along. Lilly had originally taught Lee, and she was in the Air Force, Clementine remembers. That’s how they’d met Mark, he was the only survivor at her old airbase. She doesn’t need to give him all that information, though. “My friend Lee taught me.” She answered simply. 

Pete grunted in approval, nodding. “That’s good. It’s important nowadays.” Pete smiled to himself as he remembered an amusing tale, turning to face Clementine. “Nick was about your age, first time I took him huntin'. Came across this beautiful 13-point buck just standin' there on the ridgeline.” Pete chortled at the memory. “The boy takes the rifle...lines up the shot just like I taught him...then I hear him start whinin'. He turns to me and he says, "I can't do it. I can't shoot it, Uncle Pete. Please don't make me shoot it." Pete frowned in disappointment at his past nephew. 

Clementine had always been a softie for animals. She’d fed Sam, after all, and ended up with a foot long scar in her forearm. It was also probably why she didn’t go with Luke and Alvin, to be honest; Killing fish was a lot easier than killing fuzzy squirrels. Clementine sympathized with Nick’s words. “Aww, that’s sad.” 

The crunching of twigs and leaves sounds behind them, an annoyed Nick clutching his rifle. He runs up to Pete, narrowing his eyes. “Hey! Why didn’t you wait?” Pete was right about the whining, that was for sure. 

Pete scowled to his nephew. “You want us standin’ around while you piss on a tree? You know where the river is, boy.” 

Nick simply huffs in response, looking away.

“...Anyway,” Pete continued with his tale, “so I grab the gun out of his hand before this big buck runs off when BANG! The gun fires. Boy nearly gut shot me. And of course the buck gets away.” He shakes his head. 

“What’re you goin’ and tellin’ this shit for?” Nick was red with embarrassment. 

“‘Cause you almost blew her face off yesterday.” She winced as Pete brought up the unfavorable memory. “Seems relevant. Tryin’ to let her know it ain’t nothin’ personal with you.” Pete spoke with disapproval. 

“Why are you always giving me such a hard time?” Nick snapped.

“Because you’re always givin’ everybody else a hard time.” Pete fired back. 

“I apologized already. She accepted.” Nick was whining, Pete was escalating, and Clementine really was about to just smack the shit out of them both. 

Pete pondered his words for a moment. “Okay, well, I didn’t know that.” 

“It’s fine. He apologized.” Clementine reiterated, sighing. “Let’s just get to the river.”

“You’re always trying to embarrass me.” Nick continued prodding at his uncle. 

“You’re doing a good enough job of that on your own.” Pete responded simply. 

Frustrated, Nick stomped ahead of them, cussing under his breath. 

“Leavin’ us again?” Pete called tauntingly. 

“I know where the fucking river is!” Nick mocked his uncle’s words as he shouted back. 

Pete rolled his eyes, focusing his gaze back on Clementine. “So anyway...I found that buck later that season. Shot it right in the neck. Brought it up to my sister's, figurin' she'd want to freeze some of the meat... Nick didn't speak to me for weeks.” Pete’s brow thickened with emotion. “Sometimes you gotta play a role...even if it means people you love hate you for it.”

Clementine had seen her fair share of hatred, and she knew without a doubt that Nick didn’t hate Pete. On the contrary, considering he hadn’t actually tried to fight Pete, like some dominant alpha male shit she’d seen with Larry. “He doesn’t hate you, and you should tell him what you just told me.” 

Pete considered her words silently as they continued down the path. 

“UNCLE PETE!” Nick shouted back to the duo, and they both took off, sprinting towards him.

—

As they approach the riverbank, Nick’s rifle hung limply in his arms, his blue eyes wide with shock. 

“Nick…?” Pete suddenly stopped, his own eyes growing to the size of dinner plates. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph.” 

The entire riverbank was littered with bloodied bodies; And most of them were still human. The bodies were relatively fresh, with bullet holes riddling their heads and upper torsos. Pete approached the closest one, poking it with the front of his rifle. 

“Full’a holes.” He said bluntly. 

Clementine winced. “Who do you think did this?” 

“Not sure yet. But it ain’t your average gang’a thugs, that much I know.” Pete inspects a second body, grimacing. 

“Think about it. You’re Carver, what do you do?” Nick stated matter-of-factly, his rifle braced against his chest. 

“Who’s Carver?” Clementine was fairly certain she’d heard someone mention the name before. Nick and Pete ignored her, however, and simply moved along the riverbank to inspect more bodies. 

Clementine approached Pete, tapping him on the shoulder. “What can I—“

A dreadful gunshot echoes through their eardrums, sounded from a ways away. Pete’s eyes immediately travel into the direction the sound came from, and his face goes white. “That’s where Alvin and Luke—“

“Fuck, FUCK!” Nick began to sprint into the woods, his voice cracking. “LUKE!”

“God, that fucking idiot—!” Pete and Clementine ran after him. 

Racing through the woods, the three dispatched walkers, nearly tripped over fallen logs, and were sweating profusely by the time they came into a clearing with squirrel traps. The forest floor was bloodied, and the ropes were all snapped into pieces. A familiar backpack lay against a nearby tree. 

Nick paved back and forth, his rifle long since abandoned. His hands gripped his hair, a look of pure pain across his face. “Luke...fuck…!” He spoke hoarsely. 

“Oh, God, no…” Pete’s voice whispered softly, staring behind the tree where Alvin’s bag lay. Clementine approached him slowly, preparing herself for the worst. 

On the other side of the tree, Luke’s abandoned machete laid spattered with blood and dirt. Against the base of the tree, Alvin’s body lay motionless, a gunshot wound protruding from his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: 
> 
> Hey everyone! This chapter was going to have a lot more stuff, but I’m thinking of just making them all around the same length to keep updates more consistent. Aside from that, in these summaries, I’ll explain the way each character has been left feeling (like the way the credits do in The Final Season), and also explore what other choices would have led to. 
> 
> **[If you went with Alvin and Luke]**  
> *Gunshots ricochet off of the trees behind them. Luke, Alvin, and Clementine run towards the stream to rendezvous with Pete and Nick. When they get there, Pete’s disemboweled corpse lay, clutching Nick’s hat. Nick is nowhere to be seen.*
> 
> **[Character Summary]**
> 
> **Clementine was left feeling DREADFUL.**
> 
> Clementine felt hopeful when she accepted Sarah’s offer.
> 
> Clementine felt guilty when she lied to the others about her anxiety attack.
> 
> Her heart sank when she saw what happened to Alvin, and when Luke was nowhere to be found. 
> 
> **Nick was left feeling BEREAVED.**
> 
> Nick felt grateful when you accepted his apology. 
> 
> Nick was annoyed and humiliated when Pete teased him in front of everyone.
> 
> He was devastated when Clementine found Luke’s abandoned machete next to Alvin’s body. 
> 
> **Pete was left feeling VENGEFUL.**
> 
> Pete was happy when he saw Clementine and Nick getting along.
> 
> Pete felt guilty when he took the teasing too far.
> 
> Pete felt desperate for revenge upon finding Alvin’s body. 
> 
> **Luke’s fate is UNKNOWN.**
> 
> Luke was disappointed Clementine didn’t choose to come with him. 
> 
> Luke was worried when Clementine had her anxiety attack.
> 
> He was nowhere to be found upon discovering Alvin’s body. 
> 
> **Alvin was SHOT.**
> 
> He was understanding when Clementine chose not to go with him and Luke. 
> 
> He felt helpless when Rebecca kept antagonizing Clementine. 
> 
> He was shot by an unknown assailant, and was motionless and unresponsive when Clementine and the others found him. 
> 
> **If you have any feedback, criticism, or questions, feel free to ask! I’m also willing to answer questions on what happened to characters from season one, and many of their fates differ from canonical ones.**

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is chapter one of my rewrite fanfic of the Walking Dead Game, starting at Season 2. There isn’t much difference in the story yet, but I plan for things to get much different from this point onwards. As for the cliffhanger, I plan to have every chapter end with a possible decision, and have the people reading decide which path to go down. Based on which option has the most comments/likes after 12-24 hours or so, that’s the path the story will go down. 
> 
> In this decision, does Clementine go to the river with Pete and Nick, or check the forest with Alvin and Luke? I can promise you, this will have consequences. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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